


The Plant Sitter

by Mrs_Stiltskin (Lady_Belles_Teacup)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Rumbelle Accidental Full Frontal, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 10:33:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16116599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Belles_Teacup/pseuds/Mrs_Stiltskin
Summary: On Tumblr an Angst War was declared. The RAFF brigade was called in, and everything exploded in FLUFF. Well, that's not true, but this was MY fluffy salvo in the Rumbelle Accidental Full Frontal impromptu event.There's nudity, semi-nudity, a bit of awkwardness, and a soupcon of shower wanking.





	The Plant Sitter

Rumford Gold let himself into the salmon pink victorian with a pile of luggage and a sigh of relief. His house was large and stately and quiet and full of all the little treasures he had collected over the years. All the things he had come to appreciate while travelling abroad with his thirty-two-year-old son, Baeden. The world was a beautiful place, but six weeks on the Asian continent had also taught him that it was also noisy and dodgy and chock full of people. 

He stowed the luggage in the hall closet for Dove to cart upstairs when he came by the next morning. The only thing he took up to his bedroom was his carry-on with all it’s miscellaneous toiletries. After the taxis and airplanes and nearly twenty-four hours of travel in the same suit, he was itching to get right into a steamy shower, and then fall into the big, soft bed with the fluffy down duvet that was calling his name at that very moment.

Gold was home a week early. Some business had come up that he needed to be present for, and he’d been more than ready to head home. Not that spending time with his son was a chore, but Bae had really wanted to do a little backcountry camping and hiking in Nepal, and Gold was more than happy to wave his son on and head for home. He’d even met up with a couple of old college buddies who were there planning a K2 ascent in a few weeks, and Gold didn’t feel too bad about leaving Bae in their care.

He’d let Dove know later to come by in the morning, and he could call Belle tomorrow to thank her for watering his plants. Dove was a blessing in the realms of rent collection and collateral repossession, but the man had a black thumb, as did his weekly housekeeper, Ashley. He was the one who took care of the little herb garden in the kitchen window and the other plants throughout his home, like the dracaena in his study and the prized orchids in his bedroom. There was even a little balcony off his bedroom, that housed an array of greenery.

The first time he’d left Storybrooke for a couple of weeks to travel with his son, Gold had returned to a houseful of dead and dying plants. He’d spent a week in the library, looking up ways to salvage as many of his beloved plants as possible, and Belle French, the new librarian had been a godsend. She’d shown him all the books the small library had to offer, and even had done extra research on the internet on her own. Providing him with printout of several relevant articles. 

She’d even suggested a study that showed plants that were played classical music thrived in indoor environments where they might otherwise fail. Belle had been so excited to show him the article, and he tried valiantly to ignore the way his heart seemed to beat a little faster every time she accidentally brushed against him, or she smiled at him while they were talking, or she basically existed in his presence. 

Belle French was lovely and articulate, well-read, well-educated, and kind to everyone she met. In other words, the polar opposite of Rumford Gold, the town monster, landlord, and all around scrooge. People avoided him like the plague, and he didn’t really blame them. He rarely had a kind word for anyone, not that anyone ever had a kind word for him. He was old, fifty-one to her what? Mid twenties? He was lame, he used a cane to get around since his ankle was shattered in a car accident years ago. In-short, she was everything that he was not, and he had no business with his curmudgeonly, old heart aflutter every time Belle spoke to him. 

He was so wrapped up in how much he had no business liking the woman, he completely missed the moment they became friends. Belle had taken to bringing to his shop any of the books on indoor gardening that came in, as well as more printouts that they would peruse over tea in the back room of his shop, her chestnut curls glinting in the late afternoon sunlight. Sometimes she even brought cookies from Granny’s, or a slice of pie to share. 

He’d even started playing Mozart in his study, and wouldn’t you know it, but his little dracaena just flourished. Gold had looked forward to telling her all about his plans for Rachmaninoff in the bedroom for his orchids and all the ivy and begonias and heliotrope on the balcony. Her eyes had sparkled and she smiled at him and her bubbly chatter made his heart skip a beat.

Gold had confided in Belle his fears for his beloved plants when he had planned this trip with Baeden. He was sure to arrive home and find everything dead or dying, just like last time. He’d have to fire Ashley, and everything else about her was just fine. He’d been shocked when she offered to come by and see to the plants while he was gone. Her pert, pink lips curving into the most gracious smile as she’d shyly made her offer. As though she might offend him. 

Belle had refused all offers of compensation, telling him that just knowing he could enjoy his vacation without fear for his beloved plants was enough payment for her. She’d come by his house before he left and he’d given her the tour, and shown her the ropes of his green family. She’d oohed and aahed over the rare orchids and the hydroponic wall in the master bath, as well as the living moss bath mat. 

Gold had made her a simple dinner and they’d sipped red wine and eaten pasta marinara in the kitchen, an herbaceous garlic bread to accompany. He’d enjoyed the sight of her there, in his kitchen, relaxed and laughing, though he knew it was only for the sake of his plants that she was doing this. There was nothing in the way she lingered or glanced at his mouth while they were talking that meant anything more than that. So he’d given her the keys, and she’d gone home with the promise his plants would be well.

He trudged up the stairs, divesting himself of tie, jacket, and waistcoat on his way up to his room, leaving it all on the bannister for later. He unbuttoned his shirt, and undid his cufflinks, dropping them on his dresser as he entered the room. The shirt went on the floor as he toed off his shoes, his trousers and boxers adding to the pile. Gold wandered over to check on his orchids, and they were simply flourishing. Their color was lovely and their leaves pliable and green. Belle had done a lovely job.

The gasp behind him nearly had him out of his skin. He jumped and turned, facing her as she opened the en-suite bathroom door, completely oblivious to the fact that he was as naked as the day he was born. Well, except for the black and royal blue striped socks.

Belle dropped the watering can she was holding, but she didn’t turn away before her wide, blue eyes traveled the full length of his form. Time seemed to stand still for him, the seconds trickling by like the ages of the earth. Dinosaurs roamed the earth, entire civilizations rose and fell in the time it took for him to realize he was standing there smiling like a loon in the altogether while she stood there frozen in abject horror.    


“Oh, gods, Belle!” Gold twisted around, realizing that now he was flashing her his buttocks and he wasn’t sure if that wasn’t worse. He twisted back, dropping his cane and covering the relevant bits with his hands. “I’m so sorry!”

Belle seemed to snap out of her reverie, her mouth dropping open in an ‘o’ of shock. She turned this way and that, realizing that the water from the can she had been holding was soaking his carpet, and trying to figure out what to do about it. 

“Mr. Gold, I was just taking care of the… let me get something to clean up this mess. I’m sorry!” Belle ducked into the bathroom and dropped his towels on the spreading liquid. She might have thrown one to him, where he was still crouching with his hands covering his cock, but she was worried about the damned carpet.

It was then that he noticed the whole front of her flimsy sundress was soaked through to the skin. And by skin, he meant skin. Belle French was not wearing a bra under that sweet, pale yellow sundress. Gold groaned, his hands increasingly unable to cover the growing evidence of just how lovely he found Miss French. Soaking wet. In his bedroom. 

“Belle!” He hobbled to hide his lower half behind the dresser. “Leave the carpet. You’re soaked through.”

She glanced down at herself, and then back up at him, an unreadable little smirk on her face. Belle reached down and pulled her sodden clothes away from her body. “Oh! I didn’t even notice in all the kerfuffle,” she laughed.

Belle stepped out of the bathroom while he hid behind the dresser, she bent down and retrieved his boxers, tossing them to him. He caught them, watching her grab his shirt from the same pile and duck back into the bathroom. He seized the moment, tugging on his boxers while she was safely away.

He needed more than the boxers to hide his growing problem when she emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but his shirt, her sodden sundress and panties in her hands. She walked across his room, her long, slender legs bare beneath his shirt tails. Belle opened the french doors and draped her dress and panties on the balcony railing like there was nothing unusual about it. And here he was trying to hide the raging hard-on that seeing her pert breasts and having her now naked except for his shirt in his fucking bedroom was causing. 

Gold had already decided he was never washing that shirt again. It was clear she was never going to want to see him again after this mess, and it would be a keepsake for him to cherish. Perhaps her lovely jasmine and orange blossom scent would linger in the silk, mingled with his own musk, a reminder of what never was and never could be.

By the time she came back in, he’d fetched his trousers and tamed his wayward cock enough to speak coherently to her. He swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“I’m so sorry, Belle,” Gold offered. “I didn’t see your car, so I assumed no one was here.”

“I walked over,” she answered, moving to pick up the sodden towels. “My house is just around the corner. Sorry, about your carpet.”

“Leave it,” he insisted. “It’s just water, it’ll dry. And no more apologies. That’s my job for scarring you for life.”

She left the towels and stood up, eyeing him and wiping her hands on her thighs. Her eyes were so dark, the usual light, clear sky blue darkened by wide pupils. She licked her lips, and he was certain she was about to say something, but she just bit her bottom lip instead. “I can go make some tea, if you want to take a shower. You’ve been traveling, and you must be exhausted. My things should be dry enough to walk home by then.”

“That would be amazing,” Gold agreed. Well, at least she wasn’t running away and screaming. Perhaps their friendship could move past this little hiccup. 

Belle trotted downstairs to make the tea, and the sight of her bouncing chestnut curls and the knowledge she was wearing nothing but her birthday suit beneath his own silk shirt, had him filling his boxers again. He moved into the shower, letting the steam wash away the long day of travel, like he wished he could wash away his mortification. It didn’t do anything to dampen his body’s treacherous response either. Though he supposed he should have turned the water to cold. 

But he hadn’t, and now he was standing in his shower with his cock rock hard at the thought of her naked arse sitting on one of his kitchen stools at that very moment. Gold reached down and gripped his shaft. He shouldn’t do this. He knew better, but he couldn’t go down and face her with desire surging through his veins like wildfire. He stroked, his grip firm, visions of her rosy nipples through sheer yellow cotton sliding through his mind as his cock slid through his hand. 

He imagined her lovely lips, the same luscious pink as her nipples, kissing him, opening for him while his tongue pushed inside. Gold wouldn’t be hesitant with her, but he would be gentle. His hips bucked against his hand as he imagined what it would feel like to slide up inside her wet, velvet heat, her thighs squeezing him and urging him on. Faster. Harder. He imagined her soft moans turning to cries of ecstasy as she came around him, taking him right along with her over the precipice. 

He let the steamy water wash away the evidence of his depravity. Gold towelled off and dressed in his favorite blue, silk pajamas, and pulled on his favorite robe, ready to head downstairs to face the consequences of earlier.

Belle was sitting, just as he imagined, on one of his kitchen stools, but she’d thoughtfully covered it with a towel before plopping her naked bum on it. She was nursing a cup of tea, and he motioned for her to sit while he fixed his own cup.

“So...” Belle looked at him over the rim of her teacup, and he arched an eyebrow at her. “I was thinking, we should really move on from being friends.” There it was. She couldn’t bear to look at him any more. She didn’t even want to be friends anymore. He fumbled the teacup and it hit the granite countertop with a clink, when he righted it, there was a large chip taken out of the rim.

“Of course, Belle,” he heard himself say, like some other mind had taken over his body. “I understand. I should have texted you I was coming home early. I should have been more careful.” He ran his thumb over the chip in his favorite teacup, he didn’t even notice the blood when it cut him. 

Belle looked up at him, her eyes wide, her lips parted. He couldn’t look at her. He was like Icarus with his wings of wax and feather, flown too close to the sun, and now Gold was falling, falling into darkness and ruin.

“That’s not what I meant, Rum.”

“What did you mean?” His chest felt tight and his skin felt funny and he just wanted her to go so he could crawl into bed and mourn her friendship, her light being taken from his life.

Belle blushed, suddenly coy, her lips quirking up into a little smile. “I was going to ask you to come over to my place for dinner tomorrow night.”

Belle, sitting in his kitchen, wearing nothing but his shirt, having seen him completely naked not thirty minutes before was asking him to dinner at her place. One word fell out of his mouth. 

“Why?”

She gave him an appraising glance, one he could not mistake for anything but what it was. “I like you, Rum. I like you very much, and while I’ve enjoyed our friendship, I’d very much like to see where this can go. And well, judging by this last hour, I think you might feel the same way?” Belle bit her lower lip, her teeth worrying the plump pink flesh, and his mind was buzzing with the possibility of what she was saying. She wanted him? After everything she’d seen?

“Am I being too forward?” Belle retreated, and he decided to make the leap.

“No, Belle, not at all.” He smiled at her. “I’d like that very much. More than I can say.” 


End file.
